


The Outlander

by PostMalone



Category: Red Dead Redemption
Genre: Blood and Violence, Drama, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Not Following Storyline, OC, Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Romance, Slight game spoilers, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-11
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-08-21 23:22:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16586264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PostMalone/pseuds/PostMalone
Summary: On a trip out in the country, Alice is unwillingly thrown into the path of an outlaw named Arthur Morgan. Paired together on a a trip to return her home, the two find more than just backroads and bar fights along the way.





	1. Wrong place. Wrong time.

"I'm staying, and that's that!" the woman said with a firm head nod and a crossing of the arms.

Arthur Morgan sighed deeply, shot Lenny a look of disapproval and said, "Well, if you're not moving then I'm gunna' make you."

That got her attention and Arthur had to stifle a smile when a look of pure shock lit up her young features.

"You will do no such thing!" she yelled. "I'll have my father arrest you and your sidekick out there! "

With his hands on his hips, Arthur hung his head.

"Honey," he began. "In case you haven't noticed there's no one around here too tell."

The frightened woman looked out each window of the stagecoach, pulling back the small curtains to take in the carnage he and Lenny had caused. There had been six US Marshall's tailing the stage. Six _unexpected_ US Marshall's. Arthur shot Lenny another look; he was going to have a word with the boy later. This had been goose chase number two that he'd been sent on by this supposed reliable source Lenny had contact with. _My ass._ Granted the stagecoach was of the finest quality Arthur'd ever seen, the only treasure it carried was the woman and her belongings. It was clear Lenny was avoiding him as he looted the bodies, not even sparing the older outlaw a glance.

Arthur let out another sigh then returned his sight upon the woman. The dress she wore was equally impressive. _Silk_ , he thought. Though, he'd never actually seen a dress made of the material before; only had heard the women at the camp chatter on about it from time to time.

"C'mon," he said reaching his hand out for her to grasp. "I'm not going to hurt you."

"Pull your bandanna down," she said firmly.

"I-I can't do that."

"Then I'm not getting out of here!" She looked away then, stared out the small window beside her.

"Lenny!" Arthur said, attempting to reign in some help.

When Lenny walked over to the next dead Marshall and began to pick through his pockets, Arthur gave up on him and returned his focus on the woman.

"I'm just going to take you to the nearest town."

"Mask down," she demanded.

He gave in, revealing his short goatee. Arthur pulled down on his hat, attempting to conceal his identity somewhat from her.

"Now was that so hard?" she questioned as she placed her delicate hand within his calloused one.

Arthur helped her out of the large stagecoach. She thanked him and straightened the slim dress she wore. He swallowed when he noticed how much of her it showed. The women back at the camp wore revealing things from time to time, but this dress she wore was so thin it stuck to her body like a second skin. Arthur had to avert his eyes, because it was equally clear she wore absolutely nothing underneath.

"If we could please get a move on?"

"A demanding little one, ain't ya?" Arthur asked, brows raised.

"I'm not little," she said. "I'll be thirty-two next February, thank you very much."

"Whatever you say."

She ignored that remark and said, "Now let's get a move on so I can catch the next train in the nearest town."

Arthur turned away from her and headed toward his spotted appaloosa, Sola. The woman did not follow.

"I'm not going anywhere without my things."

She was beginning to get on his last nerve. It was hard not to shoot her right here and now, but he knew that later it would weigh on his conscience, for she had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. _Stupid Lenny and his god damned informant._  Instead of causing a scene, Arthur took a deep breath, thinking of a way to diffuse the situation.

"Look," he began, turning around to face her. "We can't take it all cause the coach horses booked it when the shooting started. Pack a bag, and I'll see what I can carry. But it can't be much."

"Okay," she agreed, rather quickly.

Ten minutes later Sola was packed to the brim with her things. By the assessment of her clothing, this woman had money but barely any on her for some reason; though she had enough for a train ticket. _Who was she,_ he wondered, _to garner such an escort through the countryside?_  Lenny had said nothing throughout the whole process of packing up her things and unbeknownst to Arthur, had disappeared off into the woods on horseback.

"I'm Arthur," he said as he brought Sola to a slow trot.

"Alice," she said from behind him.

"Pleasure to meet you under the circumstances," he offered, though he knew it wasn't much since he and Lenny had held up her stagecoach _and_ killed the driver _and_ the Marshall's that had followed. Alice said nothing, probably not feeling the same way. Though, Arthur could hardly blame her.

"It's probably a fifteen minute trip to the nearest train station."

"That's fine," she said rather flatly.

The conversation ended there, and the two fell into a somewhat comfortable silence as Arthur led Sola down the road towards Rhodes. Alice held onto him tightly as if shed never ridden behind someone on horseback before. The path they were on led out into a clearing with no shade to hide the midday sun. Arthur adjusted his cowboy hat, so it covered the back of his neck.

"Phew," Alice breathed. "Is it always so hot this time of year?"

"Yeah, unfortunately, it is."

"But it's only March."

Arthur sniggered. "Where you from? It's clear you're not from around here."

"None of your business, Mister. Arthur," she quipped.

"Fair enough," he said. "How about-what you doing down here? "

"Now that I guess I can answer. I'm writing a book."

"A book?"

"Yes. I needed to see some untamed wilderness for inspiration. Been in kind of a rut lately; my journey led me here."

"Seems as if you got a little more than you've bargained for." Arthur laughed.

"Indeed it seems as if I have," she agreed.

_POW!_

The shot came from out of nowhere and the next thing Arthur knew Alice was falling off the back of Sola and onto the dust-covered road.


	2. A Cowboy's Honor

Another shot rang out, and Alice watched from her spot on the ground as Arthur jumped off his horse to quickly kneel by her side. It took a moment for the pain to actually sink in, but oh, when it did, it ran like liquid fire throughout her entire body.

"You hurt?" he asked even though the evidence was clear.

Alice withered in pain beside him, and her hands instinctively went to her side where the bullet had collided with flesh. Blood pooled through her fingers in rapid succession, staining the thin fabric of her dress. A third shot rang out around them. Arthur ducked his head on impulse and covered her body with his protectively. Alice watched from below as he scanned the outer edge of the treeline, making sure the coast was clear before he moved back to access her gunshot wound.

He frowned. "I'm going to pull you off the road. Think you can handle it?"

Alice couldn't answer him coherently, gritting her teeth to keep from screaming, and Arthur didn't wait for her consent before grabbing underneath her armpits to pull Alice off the road and out of slight.

"I'll be right back," he said as he pulled a gun out of its holster to check its chamber.

"No!" Alice said exasperatedly finally finding her voice as she grabbed onto his shirt sleeve with a bloody hand. "Don't leave me alone, please."

She was afraid he wouldn't come back. Arthur stared into her eyes.

"Won't be gone long, ma'am. Promise." And with a tip of his leather cowboy hat, Arthur was gone.

Seconds grew into minutes and the minutes seemed to turn into hours as Alice laid in the dirt and waited on the stranger to return and rescue her from this horrible predicament that she had somehow found herself in. _God_ , what would her husband think? He'd been against this trip of hers in the first place, hadn't he?

A million curse words ran through her mind as she laid in the dirt, pain coursing through her body. Alice was damming everyone she'd ever met to hell and beyond when three more shots rang out silencing her inner sailor. The pain seemed to dull as well when Alice began to wonder if it had been Arthur on the wrong end of those shots.

There was a long an intense moment of silence, and then: "There you are."

Arthur's gruff voice sliced through the air like an arrow, and tears sprang into Alice's eyes as she stared up at him in the bright midday sun.

"You came back," Alice whispered, willing the tears not to fall.

"O'course I would."

At those words, the pain immediately came rushing back, no longer dulled from the pure happiness his presence brought.

"Let me take a look at that," he said as he bent down next to her in the underbrush.

With surprising gentleness, Arthur gripped her hands with his calloused ones and tugged. Alice complied, allowing him to pull them away from the wound. She laid her head back on the ground and closed her eyes, knowing what must come next. _God just kill me now!_

"I gotta-" he began, but she interrupted him before he could finish.

"I know."

Arthur released her hands and grabbed the bottom of her dress. Alice couldn't help but feel a tad bit modest, even though she was shot and bleeding out in the dirt right now. She wore absolutely nothing underneath the dress! She'd been prepared for a long trip in the stagecoach and had dressed for comfort today.

"No!" she said, her voice rising.

Alice grabbed onto his hands with her bloody ones, stopping him when he began to pull the dress upwards.

"I have to give it a look," Arthur demanded with a grunt.

When another sharp pain gripped her body rendering her helpless, Arthur used this to his advantage and pulled up the dress. Alice, too embarrassed to look at him, kept her head turned, her eyes closed and her legs together.

The silence from him grew, and a dark thought ran through her mind. This situation would honestly be the perfect time for him to take advantage. A young woman who was shot and practically helpless would be easy pickings, but Arthur did no such thing. He pulled the dress back down before speaking.

"Looks like it went clean through. Can't be sure 'till I get you back to camp and cleaned up."

Alice's eyes shot open, and she looked up at him. "Your camp?"

"Uh-huh." Arthur nodded. "Just keep pressure on it-yeah, just like that, and let me round up my horse."

Arthur was gone in a flash, and he was back even quicker with his horse in tow. With relative ease, Arthur lifted Alice into his arms, and somehow they both ended up on the horse. By this time Alice began to shake, the pain completely taking over her body. Arthur rubbed her arm up and down.

"You stay with me now, you hear? We're not too far away."

Alice said nothing, just kept her eyes closed as the horse began to move underneath them. When Arthur instructed the horse to book it down the pathway, he pulled her closer. The wind whipped at her face, and Alice turned into his chest, shielding herself. Breathing in deeply, Alice took comfort in his smell: sweat mixed with a spicy musk of some kind. Pain aside, she relaxed against him.

For some unknown reason, Alice trusted this stranger. She just knew that he was going to try his best to get her the help she needed. But was she crazy for even thinking that? Maybe. He did kill those men who had been trailing behind her stagecoach along with the driver.

And he was going to save her?

Why?

Forcing her eyelids to open and her head to tilt up, Alice stared up into the face of her knight in shining armor. Or leather, as the case may be.

Alice prayed their trip was over soon because she felt as if hers was coming to an end.


	3. Only Time Will Tell

Halfway back to Shady Belle the woman in his arms abruptly stopped shaking and fell limp against him.

"Alice!" Arthur shouted over the stomping of Sola's hooves. "Wake up!"

Her hands fell away from the bleeding wound, and Arthur panicked. He shook her and was greeted with a small groan against his chest.

"C'mon girl. Faster. Faster!" he demanded of his horse, pushing her to the limits.

Arthur was determined not to let Alice die. The men who'd shot her had been nothing but hillbilly scum, and thankfully he'd easily taken care of all three. At first, he'd thought it had been more US Marshalls after them, misfiring as they attempted to hit him, but Arthur found himself relieved when it had been nothing of the sort.

He looked down at Alice against him. She did not look good. Liquid scarlet dripped from her soaked dress and onto Arthur's lap. He was worried she was losing too much blood. Alice's skin had begun to turn cold and pale, a massive difference from the soft golden glow it had held earlier. When the old dilapidated manor came into view, a wave of relief hit him like a ton of bricks.

"Who's there?" Arthur heard John Marston call out, but he was already going to fast to answer.

Arthur did not stop his horse until Sola was at the front door.

"Wounded!" he shouted as he dismounted with Alice in hand. "I've got wounded over here!"

Arthur burst through the double doors of the old manor and found the nearest cot in the next room over. He laid Alice carefully down and by that time he had an audience behind him.

"Oh my!" Mrs. Grimshaw gasped. "I'll go get some rags."

"I'll bring in a bucket of water," Tilly said and walked back out the door following behind Susan.

Arthur looked down at Alice who hadn't moved an inch since he'd laid her down on the cot. If it weren't for the slight rise and fall of her chest one might think her dead.

"Where'd you find this one, Arthur?" Charles asked from behind his right shoulder.

"Ask Lenny," Arthur answered grimly.

"Oh, Ar'tur!" Sean added with a laugh and a slap on the shoulder. "Why da' ya' always be savin' damsels in distress?"

Mrs. Grimshaw returned with a small basket of rags in her hands, silencing Arthur's reply. Other girls followed in behind Susan carrying various supplies.

"What we got?" Susan asked Arthur as she came over to stand beside him.

"Gunshot wound. But I think it went straight through; there's an exit wound on her back."

"How long ago?"

"Ten minutes, maybe."

As the girls set up around Alice, Mrs. Grimshaw turned to the onlookers in the room.

"I suggest you men clear on out of here! Shoo! Shoo!"

"Yes, ma'am."-Charles/"Oh, yes-um."-Sean

"Arthur, that means you too," Mrs. Grimshaw said.

Arthur blinked, unaware he'd been staring at Alice.

"Yes. I'll go," Arthur said clearing his throat, leaving Alice in their care.

**:O:**

Arthur was sitting on the steps of the front porch when Alice screamed. Birds scattered from a nearby tree and some of the horses raised their heads, ears twitching. Arthur was the only one who had stuck around the house as he waited on Mrs. Grimshaw and the girls to work their magic.

Arthur scanned the horses as they grazed. Lenny still hadn't returned. The little shit. He was going to be in for it whenever he showed his face around camp again.

"Leaving me to pick up the pieces," Arthur grumbled to himself.

Through the opened window, the women's voices rose, mixing into a jumbled mess as they all began to talk over one another. Alice screamed again, temporarily silencing the chatter but it only lasted a second. Shouts of disapproval filled the room again. Suddenly, there was a scuffle inside. _What were those idiots doing? There was a wounded woman in there dying, for crying out loud!_ Arthur stood, about to head in when the front door opened. It was Tilly.

"She's asking for you," she said as she held the door opened for him.

Arthur took a deep breath, nodded, and headed inside without another word. When he turned the corner everyone was staring at him, their argument ceasing once he'd entered the manor. Their lips were pursed in unease, but Arthur paid them no mind. He saw no one but Alice, and just like him, Alice's petrified dark green eyes were locked on him. She reached a shaky hand out to him.

"Arthur," she voiced weakly.

"Don't worry," he said as he crossed the room to grasp her small hand.

He got on his knees beside the bed.

"Thank you," she whispered with trembling lips.

"Don'chu mention it," he said with a low voice. "Let's just let them help you."

Alice nodded, tears falling from her eyes. Arthur wanted to say something more comforting to ease her worry but just the thought of doing that in front of an audience-especially _this_ audience-made his cheeks flush. He was glad Alice had closed her eyes so she wouldn't witness this slight falter of his. Glad, also for the hat he wore, so the other women couldn't see either.

"I didn't catch her name," Mrs. Grimshaw whispered next to Arthur.

"Alice," he said. "Her name's Alice."

"Alice, this is going to be the hard part," Mrs. Grimshaw said softly. "Bite down on this."

She placed a leather belt between Alice's teeth.

"Okay now, on three," the older woman said. "One, two-"

Alice's eyes shot open, and she yelled loudly, even with the belt between her teeth. She attempted to rise, but Arthur reached over, placing a heavy arm across her chest to hold her in place.

"Stay still, Alice," Susan instructed. "The bullet's still in there."

After hearing this bit of information, Alice stopped moving, but her heartbeat began to quicken. Arthur could feel it through her chest. He squeezed her shoulder in an attempt to comfort her. He'd known this pain from experience.

Alice cried throughout the rest of the procedure but she stayed silent and unmoving. Once Mrs. Grimshaw had finished, she instructed Arthur to move her upstairs to recover. As carefully as he could, Arthur carried Alice up the stairs and into his bedroom since it was the only room in the house with a single bed inside. He laid her down as best he could then covered her with his wool blanket. It was dark out now and Arthur lit the small lantern on the bedside table.

"Thank you. For everything," she said weakly when the room lit up in a soft glow.

"You're welcome," Arthur said with a nod. He looked around. "This is my room. No one's gonna' bother you in here."

"I'm sorry to put you out," she said.

"Don' you worry about that. I got other places I can sleep tonight."

When Alice said no more Arthur added, "I'm going to head downstairs for a bit, but I'll be back up to check on you after 'while. You get some rest, okay?"

"Mmhm," she answered with closed eyes.

Arthur hoped when he came back she'd still be alive, but it was all up to chance really. There had been no way of knowing if she'd lost too much blood before Mrs. Grimshaw had stitched her up. This had been all his fault. Arthur wished he could go back in time and call Lenny off when they'd discovered the US Marshalls. With a heavy heart, Arthur made his way down the stairs and out the front door of the manor.


	4. In Her Defense

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Confession: My OC isn't technically an OC.  
> Timelines are warped and not following true events that actually happened.

* * *

"Arthur! Arthur!" Hosea Matthews called out as soon as Arthur walked out onto the front porch.

"What is it?" Arthur gruffly asked as he descended the steps one at a time, not really in the mood for the old man's antics at the moment.

"The woman," Hosea said a little breathless as he stopped in front of Arthur. "Do you have any idea who she is!?"

"Yes," Arthur answered, annoyed, as he walked away from his elder comrade. "Her name's Alice."

"Oh, you poor boy," Hosea said, more to himself than to Arthur.

Not having eaten all day, Arthur headed over to Mr. Pearson's bubbling batch of rabbit stew. He had just sat down with his warm meal-about to take his first bite-when Hosea found him again. The older man took a seat across the table from him.

"Try Alice Lee Roosevelt."

"M-kay," Arthur said with a mouth full of food.

The name meant nothing to him, but apparently it did to the older man. He was practically beaming to spill the details behind her name. Arthur waited.

"She's the daughter of the President, Arthur. Theodore Roosevelt."

This news caught Arthur off guard, and he dropped the spoon that he'd been holding into the stew, splattering some onto the table. Arthur focused on Hosea, and a shroud of dread seemed to descend upon the camp as everyone all silently waited to hear what Arthur would say next.

"You sure it's really her?"

"Yes, take a look at this." Hosea pulled a small photograph from the inner pocket of his jacket and handed it to Arthur. "I found it in her belongings. The inscription on the back. . ."

The picture was of Alice. She was a little more put together in the photograph, her hair pinned high above her head, and she was wearing a little bit of makeup too. Beside her sat a fat man with a thick mustache and small rounded glasses. Not knowing what the President looked like, Arthur flipped the photo over, reading what Hosea had instructed.

Stamped in black letters:  **The 26th President of the United States**   **Theodore Roosevelt with his eldest daughter Alice Lee.**

Arthur's heartbeat quickened as he reread the back of the photograph over again. He flipped it over to look at the picture of the two.  _Alice was the daughter of the President!?_  The thought was so bizarre, though it had to be true because the woman in the photo was the same woman lying in his bed right now.

Earlier, when Alice had fallen off the back of his horse, Arthur'd thought hard about leaving her there. What was she to him? Just part of a robbery gone bad. He'd left a woman or two behind in his day, but when Alice had looked up at him, tears falling freely down her cheeks, Arthur had found that he couldn't leave her side. In the moment of pure fear, she'd looked exactly like Mary Linton. From Alice's long dark hair to her small frame and slender neck, she was Mary made over. And when he'd went blindly after those three hillbillies, Arthur had been defending Mary's honor. Not Alice's. He'd snapped out of his daze as soon as the third body had hit the ground.

If he'd only left her there. . . And come to find out she was the President's daughter. God dammit. What had he done?

"The President's daughter? Arthur, did I hear that right?" Dutch Van Der Linde questioned with a cigar in his hand as he walked over to the table he and Hosea were seated at.

_Shit._

"That's right," Hosea said answering Dutch himself.

Arthur handed Dutch the photograph and attempted another bite of stew but found it tasteless, and he spit it out, losing his appetite altogether.

"And you're sure it's her?" Dutch asked Arthur.

With a sigh, Arthur begrudgingly answered. "Yes, it's her."

Dutch slammed his fist onto the table, spilling Arthur's bowl of stew everywhere. He stood quickly, attempting to avoid the waterfall of liquid that came rushing at him.

"Goddammit Arthur!" he said. "Don't you ever learn?"

"It's Lenny's fault! Ask him!" Arthur felt childish saying this, playing the blame game, but it was the truth. He wouldn't be in this predicament if it hadn't been for the kid. Arthur looked around camp at the crowd of onlookers who had gathered 'round. "Where is he anyway?"

Dutch pulled a considerable drag off the cigar, ignoring Arthur. "She's out of here by tomorrow morning."

"What?" Arthur said giving Dutch his undivided attention; his voice rose along with his temper. "She's been shot!"

"She's 'outta here by morning, or I'll deal with her myself."

Dutch and Arthur stared each other down.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Arthur questioned. For a moment was hard for him to keep his hands to himself, even if it was Dutch, and he wondered why.

"Exactly what I said. We cannot have another run in like the one we had with the O'Driscolls a few weeks ago. It'll be the fucking government on our asses next time if they find out we have her. Arthur, you know we can't have that."

As much as Arthur hated to admit it, Dutch was right. With the mess that had happened back in Blackwater, the gang couldn't carry any more burdens. Arthur placed his hand on his belt and stared at the pebbled ground, sighed. Alice had to go.

"Just give her a few days," Arthur said. "I know there was no one tailing us when I came back with her. Hell, no one probably knows she's gone yet."

It was a while before Dutch spoke, he just stood still, staring over at Arthur with judgment in his eyes as he finished up his cigar.

"I'll give her three days. Then you take her where she needs to go."

"Okay," Arthur agreed, taking what he could get.

"No one is to have any contact with her," Dutch shouted to everyone else. "Only Arthur and Mrs. Grimshaw, if needed. We don't need her learning any more about us."

There were a couple of head nods, eye rolls, and 'uh-huhs' then everyone went back to what they had been doing previously.

"We done here, Dutch?" Arthur asked with quipped words.

Dutch said nothing to him, just turned around and quietly walked back to his tent.

"It'll be alright, Arthur," Hosea said, his voice slicing through the silence of the camp.

He placed a hand on Arthur's shoulder and squeezed.

"I hope you're right, Hosea," Arthur said. "Hope you're right."


	5. Caretaker

The flame in the lantern on the bedside table had died out when Arthur returned to check on Alice a few hours later. He had cleaned himself up in the swamp by the old manor, changed his clothes, and just kept busy with small tasks around camp while he mulled over the news Hosea had brought to everyone's attention earlier. When it became too dark to see outside, even by moonlight, he went inside the house.

By the grace of God, Alice was still alive. Filled with relief and tired from the long day he'd had, Arthur removed his boots as quietly as he could and sat them by the door. He eyed his wool blanket on the floor beside the bed.  _Must have knocked it off in her sleep_ , he thought. With quiet feet, he came over and covered Alice's shivering body. Arthur placed his hand on her forehead, checking to make sure she just had a chill and not a fever. There wasn't anything anyone could do if she had one. Thankfully though, she was cool to his touch.

Arthur straightened and stared down at her. The poor girl, she was a disheveled mess. There was blood everywhere, including her hair, face, and arms. When Arthur had brought Alice up here, he had every intention on cleaning her up a bit, but once her head had hit his pillow, Arthur knew it wouldn't be long before sleep claimed her. He'd been right, too. Later though, once she finally woke up, he would find Mrs. Grimshaw and have her dress and clean Alice.

Satisfied with her slow and even breathing, Arthur took a seat on the large chest in which he kept his clothes. Sighing deeply, he pulled a foot up to hang over his knee, took off his sock, and massaged the bottom of his sore foot. After a few minutes, Arthur did so with the other. He'd recently purchased a new pair of black cowboy boots, and he had yet to break them in.

Just then Alice moaned and rolled over onto her back; her fists clenched the blanket and her brows knitted together. Setting his foot down, Arthur rose from his sitting position and was about to assist her, but he stopped when Alice suddenly quieted; within seconds her breathing became deep and her face no longer contorted from pain.

After about a minute of staring and checking on her, Arthur yawned and retreated to the opposite end of the room. He hung his cowboy hat from the doorknob and sat on the floor with his back against the door. He wasn't taking any chances with the inevitable onlookers from camp tonight. Arthur hung his head, folded his hands within his lap, and crossed his legs at the ankles. He wasn't worried about comfort; there'd been plenty of times before Arthur'd slept in this same position. What he found himself worrying about was that woman over there — the President's daughter.

Arthur laughed to himself. It was hard for him to wrap his mind around. Alice had seemed so ordinary when he'd first laid eyes on her. She wore no make-up or jewelry, her dress was ugly, albeit satin: an expensive fabric; hell, if it hadn't been for the stagecoach and the US Marshall escort he'd think her to be a whore who frequented town Saloons, not someone of importance.

**:O:**

Arthur dozed off without realizing it and found himself jump when Alice woke him with the sound of her dry heaves. She was bent over the side of his bed, hair in her face, holding onto the small mattress with a death grip. Arthur stood quickly and came to her aid.

"It's me," he whispered as softly as he could when she stiffened under his touch.

Arthur held Alice's hair back until the dry heaves eventually stopped, which took longer than expected, and with a final sigh, Alice fell back against Arthur's small pillow. Her breathing was quick as she attempted to catch her breath. With nothing on her stomach, there had been nothing to throw up, which was worse in his opinion.

When he looked over at her, Arthur couldn't help but notice how the blanket had slipped from her shoulders leaving her small breasts exposed as they fell out the top of the dress a bit. Arthur swallowed and quickly averted his eyes, staring down at his bare feet.

"You want me to get Mrs. Grimshaw?" he asked.

"No... I'm... fine," she answered in between gasps of air.

Arthur rubbed the back of his neck and with shame attempted another look. He was thankful her eyes were still closed.

"Can I get you anything?" Arthur asked.

"Something to drink. Please?" she said, voice low.

Arthur turned and grabbed his canteen from top of the small table. Quickly, he unscrewed the lid and held it to her lips. She grabbed onto his hands as she drank.

"Thank you," she said, her voice a little stronger as she wiped away droplets of water from her chin.

"Don't mention it," Arthur said recapping his canteen. "You hungry?"

Alice pried one eye opened and looked up at him.

"A little."

"Let me see what I can scrounge up. I'll be right back."

**:O:**

Alice stayed perfectly still as she laid in Arthur's bed and waited for him to return. She found that the bullet wounds didn't hurt quite as much if she didn't move. Or breathe for that matter.

With the sun filtering into the room lighting it up a bit, Alice looked around. The paint was chipped from the ceiling and wallpaper peeled from the walls-dirty and tattered, having seen better days many moons ago. The door that led outside was broken, hanging on its hinges. Why, even bullet holes decorated the room in various places. How wonderful.

"Where am I?" Alice whispered to herself.

Taking in the poor condition of the room and lack of electricity, Alice figured Arthur and his small posse to be drifters, people who didn't stay in one place for too long. For the first time since meeting this strange outlaw, Alice was feeling slightly weary of Arthur and his intentions. If he or his gang found out who she was, it could be over for her. They could threaten her life for money and kill her, or worse they go after her father, and that wouldn't be good. Alice knew her father would do anything to get her back. Best if she kept her identity a secret.

Alice's thoughts then drifted to her husband; thinking of anything to keep her mind off the pain. She wanted to laugh at herself but held it back. What would he think if he could see her now? Shot and lying in some other man's bed. Nicholas would first have a cow then he'd probably whisk her away to a public hospital immediately. Couldn't lose his prize bride, she resented. Couldn't have her dying from a bullet wound. Alice winced as a sharp pain shot up her spine, sobering her of the negative thoughts.

A gun was propped up against the wall at the foot of the bed. Its long barrel shone in the morning sun as if it'd had a clean recently. Alice found herself wondering what it would feel like to shoot one. Her husband had guns, but she had only been allowed to hold them, and just the small ones at that. Alice scolded herself for thinking of him again. She closed her eyes and sighed.

Moments later Arthur came in carrying something in his hands. He closed the door behind him and slowly walked over, balancing whatever he held very carefully.

"Rabbit stew is on the menu," he said as he sat beside her on the bed.

"Rabbit stew?"

"What?" he said with sarcasm in his voice. "You mean to tell me you've never had rabbit stew?"

Alice couldn't help it, she laughed; and regretted it immediately.

"Ouch!" she yelped, gripping her side.

"Careful now," Arthur said, his face serious as he looked down at her.

"I'm... okay."

Without any amusement in his voice this time, he asked: "You wanna' eat some?"

She was sad to have caused his abrupt change in mood. Alice unwillingly looked up at him and said: "Sure."


	6. The Gun

Three days later Arthur steered the uncovered wagon through the morning fog away from the old manor. Alice was in the back, tucked in beside supplies for the trip and watched the old house disappear from view. She was sad for not being able to thank the women who had helped save her life, but Alice had kept quiet knowing Arthur wouldn't allow it.

For the last three days, Arthur had been right by Alice's side feeding her, dressing her wound, even to Alice's embarrassment, assisting as she went to the restroom. Within the confines of his small bedroom the two had talked it out, and it was agreed upon that Arthur was to take her to her father's ranch in North Dakota. It was closer and seemed like a reasonable trip because Alice couldn't take the train home in the condition she was in. Though she felt significantly better than she had three days ago, Alice still had a hard time getting up and walking around.

The buggy hit a hole in the road, and the whole thing shook jerking Alice. She gripped her side and moaned from the pain.

"Sorry," Arthur called out over his shoulder. "Saw it at the last second."

Alice said nothing, just ignored him and closed her eyes. She rested back against the makeshift pillow Arthur'd made for her with his bag of clothes. Once the pain ebbed slightly, Alice began to enjoy the morning sun as it touched upon her face. She must have dozed off because the next thing she knew the buggy rattled and Alice found herself in the middle of a city. Saint Denis, to be exact. She knew because it was the last town she had visited before she'd been robbed, then shot.

Heart pumping, Alice rose and watched as Arthur hopped off the wagon. He came to the side she was closest to and looked at her from underneath the brim of his black cowboy hat.

"I'll only be a second. Gotta' pick something up."

"O-okay," Alice stuttered, slightly rattled.

She looked around him. There were a lot of people walking the streets. She swallowed the dry lump that had suddenly lodged itself within her throat.

"You'll be alright," Arthur said, reaching over and grabbing her hand.

Something cold and metal pressed into her palm, and she gripped it. Her eyes widened. It was a small gun. Alice gasped and hid it underneath the blanket.

"See, told ya' you'd be okay." Arthur winked and walked away.

Once he entered the store, Alice took a look at the small silver gun in her hand. She couldn't believe it! Arthur had given her a gun.  _A gun!_  Not just to hold, but to protect herself. Keeping it underneath the blanket, Alice looked up. With a swell of pride, she placed her finger over the trigger, daring the mass of people around her to try and rob her now.

But no one did, and not long after Arthur exited the store with a white envelope in his hands. He tucked it within the inner pocket of his vest and came over.

"Anyone bother you?" he asked.

"No one," she said.

Arthur smiled and tipped his hat, then hopped back into the seat of the wagon and directed the two horses on their way over the cobblestone street.

Once out of the city limits Alice asked: "Did you get what you needed?"

"Yes'um," Arthur said.

Alice waited for him to say more, but when he didn't, she did.

"Do you know the way to North Dakota? The Maltese Cross?"

"Uh, go north," he said with laughter in his voice.

"I'm serious Arthur!" Alice said wanting to slap him. They had talked about this before, and he had seemed to understand where to go at the time.

Arthur laughed, then gave the horses another short command. "I've got someone who lives a ways past Valentine. We're going to pay him a little visit."-Another command-"Word is he's got a collection of maps. Hopefully some that can lead us to North Dakota."

"Okay," Alice said satisfied with his answer.

The two fell into a comfortable silence, and unfortunately, Alice's thoughts drifted toward her husband as they tended to do lately. In all honesty, he'd been another reason Alice had chosen the ranch in North Dakota. The man would literally have a conniption fit if he saw Arthur, a relatively attractive man, carrying her in his arms through the front doors of the house she shared with him even if she was injured. Nicholas might also shoot Arthur. Or at the very least have him arrested. Alice couldn't have that.

So a trip to North Dakota was their destination. It was the off season for hunting so Alice knew the house would be deserted. It was closer than her home in Manhattan, and it was also the smarter choice. She could spend her time healing at the ranch home, all while dropping postcards off in the mail now and then. Nicholas would be none the wiser.

Alice's wandering thoughts kept her occupied as the buggy trundled through the small town of Valentine and finally into a line of trees beyond the small town.

"Woah," Arthur called to the horse once they were deep within the woods. He pulled on the reins, and the buggy came to a stop.

In one swift motion, Arthur hopped off the wagon.

"You do know how to use that thing, right?" he asked, motioning toward the handgun, which she still had hidden under the blanket.

Alice nodded. "Pull the trigger."

"That'a girl." He smiled at her. "Be right back."

Alice nodded again, then Arthur turned and walked away. It pained her to do it, but Alice moved around in her seat, watching as Arthur walked over to a log cabin nestled within a small clearing. With one hand on her wound and the other on the gun, she watched Arthur as he entered the house. Aside from the horses snorting and banging their hooves on the ground, it was silent, and with bated breath, Alice waited patiently.

The sound of a gun going off made Alice jump. Birds took flight, and two squirrels ran out of a nearby bush and up some trees. It took a few seconds for Alice's brain to catch up with current events.  _Arthur!_ But she didn't have long to speculate who was on the wrong end of that gun because Arthur exited the cabin a moment later with a large roll of paper in his hand. There was blood splattered over his clothes.

"Did you kill him?" she whispered as he made his way over.

"Mmhm," Arthur said, unrolling the paper.

"Why?" she found herself asking.

He had a map in his hands, and Arthur was silent as he looked it over.

"I asked him to show me where the Maltese Cross was; he started asking questions I didn't like."

_Oh, wow. Alice_  couldn't believe it!-How easy it was for him to take a life. She dropped her eyes from Arthur's face to the map; her view of him slightly altered.

"I'm sorry," she said.

Arthur looked positively stunned. "Well, what fur'?"

"For putting you in that position."

He rerolled the map. "It's not the first person I've had to kill, and I'm sure it won't be the last. Okay?" He waited for her to answer; she nodded. "When I asked him about the Maltese Cross he was slightly interested in why I was going there. Then he looked out the window at you and became really interested; didn't sit well with me."

Alice gasped. "Do you think he recognized me?"

"I dunno'," he said with a shrug. "Why would he recognize you?"

Alice pursed her lips together. She'd said too much. Within the time they'd spent together in that small room not once had Alice told him who she really was. Who her father really was. She'd lied about everyone in her family, so afraid they'd use her for a ransom, but so far they'd been none the wiser.

Alice realized Arthur was still staring at her expectantly, waiting for an answer. She shrugged once and returned her attention to the map in his hands.

"Where do we have to go?" she asked, needing a subject change.

Arthur sighed, but said no more as he unrolled the large map. He pointed near the top of it.

"This right here is where we need to go. And here"-he moved his finger aways down the map-"is where we are, right now."

Alice's eyes practically bulged out of her skull.

How long of a trip? Dare she even ask? He answered her unspoken question.

"The man said about a week traveling in this here horse and buggy."

"A-a week?" Alice couldn't believe it! _A week!_  She wanted to cry.

"Mmhm," Arthur said grumbling to himself as he folded the map into a square and stuck it in his back pocket.

"Are you sure we can't just take the train?" Arthur asked. "You said that's how you got here in the first place, right?"

"Yes, but-"

"But!" Arthur laughed a little sarcastically. "There's always a but."

"We just can't, okay?" Alice felt like a defiant teenager, but she could not allow him to know the real reason. She knew he'd think less of her.

Arthur placed both hands on the side of the wagon and stared grimly at her.

"Look," he began. "We know who you are so you can drop the act."

"What-?" Alice's heart dropped. "How?"

"Because of this."

Arthur reached into his small satchel and pulled out a small photo. He handed it to her. She looked at it at a glance, already knowing what picture it was. Alice closed her eyes and held it to her chest, her eyes filling up with tears, unable to hold them back any longer.

"Then wh-why," Alice began, studdering over her words. "Why haven't you taken me hostage? Offered ransom? Killed me? Why are you taking me home?"

Arthur just shook his head and laughed again before finally taking his seat on the wagon. He gave the horses a command and the two towed the buggy away from the cabin that still had smoke coming out of its chimney.

"Because," Arthur said. "My gangs got too much shit going on already."


	7. A Book With No Name

Once the sun began to set Arthur set up a small camp next to a flowing river for the night. Alice had been exceptionally quiet the entire day, and honestly, it had suited Arthur just fine; he'd been able to concentrate on the map to figure out where they needed to go. Except now as he turned the trouts he'd caught over in the frying pan, he was desperate for some communication between the two. Arthur looked over at Alice as she sat propped up against a nearby spruce tree writing in the journal Hosea had found the picture in.

Alice had been engrossed in the book all day as they'd traveled the countryside. Arthur wasn't stupid. He knew she was using the journal as an excuse not to talk to him. Her demeanor had changed the instant Arthur had handed her that picture, and she'd been closed lipped ever since. The three days she'd spent in his room they had had pleasant conversations. Nothing too personal, Arthur'd noticed, but the small talk between them had been nice. Now as the sixteenth hour of silence approached it was getting old.

Arthur sat the frying pan aside to cool down, then gave Alice his full attention. It took a moment, but eventually, she looked over.

"What're you writing about?" he asked looking at the lavender book in her lap.

Alice eyed the trouts resting in the frying pan by his foot. "Food ready?" she questioned in a bored tone.

"Yup," he said as he grabbed two small plates he'd taken from Mr. Pearson and sat the two pieces of trout onto each of one. He didn't hand hers over.

"What're you writing about?" Arthur asked again, challenging her.

It didn't take her long to understand what he was up to. Alice clammed up quickly and didn't say another word. Arthur shrugged and picked up one of the plates and began eating. He didn't take his eyes off of her as he baited her into talking. Her brow furrowed and Arthur had to stifle his smile.

He was six bites in before she answered.

"A story," Alice said through clenched teeth.

Arthur sat his plate down, wiped his hands off with a handkerchief and picked up her plate of food but didn't move from his seat by the fire.

"What kind?" he asked.

Alice rolled her eyes and huffed, looking away as she did so. It was then when the wind blew, stirring up the fire enough for him to notice her flushed cheeks. _Was she embarrassed?_  he wondered. Feeling slightly guilty Arthur stood. He walked over and handed Alice the plate. She took it without looking at him.

"I'd like to read it sometime," Arthur offered, attempting to smooth things over as he sat back down.

Alice stared down at the plate. "You actually know how to read?"

"Yes, ma'am," Arthur said.

Alice said no more on the matter then began eating. Earlier when Arthur'd tried his hand at fishing, he'd been lucky enough to catch two small trouts and one massive catfish. Saving the bigger one for last, Arthur plopped it into the frying pan.

"It's a love story," Alice said once Arthur was almost finished with the fish.

"Alright," he said hesitantly.

"Think you'd still want to read it?"

"O'course," he said without hesitation.

Arthur had stumbled upon a few romance novels in his day. They hadn't been too off-putting for him not to finish. He'd even found himself enjoying a few, though he wouldn't disclose that information to Alice. Or anyone else for that matter.

He poked at the fish with a fork. "You gonna' let me read it?"

"No!" Alice quipped, her voice going up a pitch. Her eyes widened, and she cleared her throat. "I never let anyone read my stories."

"You told me you were an author," Arthur corrected.

She laughed and looked away from him again, picking at the food in the plate nervously. "Well, not technically," she said. "But I will be once I'm published. I've been in contact with a publisher."

"What's the story about?" he asked.

She didn't answer.

"C'mon," Arthur coaxed, flipping the catfish over one last time. "It's the least you could do. I did take part in saving your life."

He heard her huff and knew he had her. Arthur grinned. It was a dirty move, but at least there wasn't dead silence between them anymore.

But then there was. He looked up.

"You do know what your story is going to be about, don't you?"

She blushed and glanced over at him. "Um. . ."

Arthur couldn't help but laugh, and that didn't sit well with her. She shouted.

"Its what I came out here for! For. . . for inspiration!"

"Okay. Alright," Arthur said, quieting his chuckles. He didn't understand her, but okay.

Forty-five minutes later Alice and Arthur were well fed, rebandaged, and lying on the ground next to the burning fire. She had said no more to him since their meal, but for now, that was fine. They both needed their rest because he'd planned an early start for tomorrow.

The cicadas were loud this time of year, and they offered a nice background noise that lulled Arthur into a light doze.

"Are you married, Arthur Morgan?" Alice's small voice questioned.

Arthur felt his body jerk awake, though he didn't move. He opened his eyes and looked over at her. "Huh?"

"Are you married?" she asked again. Her dark brown eyes met his.

"No. I'm not."

"You ever wanna' be?"

He rose a brow, confused, but Arthur could see no point in lying to the woman.

"I thought I wanted to be." He paused. "Once."

"But not anymore?"

"No," Arthur said. "Not anymore. The life I lead has no place for a woman."

"There are women in your camp," Alice observed.

"Yes but those women. . ." Arthur thought of a delicate way to put it. "Those women have led a hard life. No! _-_ They  _lead_  a hard life. Few are tougher than some men I know."

Alice went silent, then rolled over onto her back. "And that's not the kind of woman for you?"

He thought for a moment, rolled over as well. "No. It's not."

Alice yawned. It had been a very long day for both of them, and they had to endure six more days. But at least she was talking to him for now. Arthur yawned right after, and it wasn't long till sleep pulled him under.

**:O:**

Alice's scream pierced the night sky. Arthur quickly sat up, but it took his brain a moment to catch up with reality. The horses neighed and stamped their hooves into the ground, and the sound of a scuffle drew Arthur's attention to the left. He looked over but couldn't see anything because the fire that had been burning when he'd fallen asleep had died.

"Alice?!" Arthur called out into the darkness.

She screamed again, but this time it was farther off. Someone had her! Adrenaline shot through his veins in an instant. Arthur went for his gun underneath his pillow and got to his feet. He didn't bother with boots, and Arthur went blindly into the woods.

"Alice!" he shouted again.

Arthur stopped by a tree and ran a shaky hand over his buzzed cut hair. Nervous energy spiked his body, and his heart felt as if it were going to jump out of his chest it was pounding so hard. He attempted to silence his breathing, hoping to catch the kidnapper by the sound of his footfalls. With his heart in his chest, Arthur waited for a noise.

But there was nothing, and she was gone.

**Author's Note:**

> I am not a professional writer and I do not know the ends and out of the 1800s in America. Honestly, I've just fallen in love with the game and the character Arthur Morgan and I had to write something. Thus, this story was born. My hope is that you enjoy my writing style, for English isn't my fist language, and you understand and can follow along easily. Any and all criticism is welcome. Thank you.


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